Chapter 2 A Decent Coffin

Footsteps instantly moved toward the door. Panic spiked in my chest.

Before the door could swing all the way open, the club manager barged in through the service entrance. He took one look at the dented trash can and grabbed my arm. 

"Hey, what the hell is wrong with you?" he hissed under his breath. He shoved me toward the back exit, then turned toward the hallway, plastering on a fake, apologetic smile. "So sorry, Mr. Ashford! Just a clumsy new temp. I'm handling it right now!"

He yanked me out into the service corridor and pushed me hard against the concrete wall. 

"You fucking idiot!" he snarled, shoving me hard against the concrete wall. His thick finger jabbed painfully into my collarbone. "Do you have any idea who is sitting in that room?! That's Julian Ashford!" 

He ripped the gray vest right off my back, nearly tearing my thin shirt with it. 

"If Mr. Ashford gets pissed off because a cheap piece of street trash like you ruined his mood, we're all dead! You're done. Get the hell out of my club, and don't ever let me catch you crawling around here again!"

I stripped off the gray vest with trembling hands. I stumbled out the back door.

My knees buckled. I collapsed in a dark alley, leaning over a storm grate, and threw up everything in my stomach—which was nothing but stomach acid and the metallic taste of blood. 

Pain tore through my abdomen, sharp and blinding.

Five years. 

For five years, I carried the unbearable weight of being the "fake" daughter. I let them ship me off to that brutal reform school. I took the beatings from the staff. I starved on the streets. Every time things got bad, I told myself I deserved it. I thought I had stolen Eliza’s life.

But it was all a lie. 

There was no hospital mix-up. No fake daughter. I was Eleanor Ashford. And the man who threw me into hell, the man who watched me get dragged out of our home crying and begging, was my own brother. 

I leaned back against the dirty brick wall and laughed. It sounded exactly like a sob. 

By the time I dragged myself off the pavement, it was close to dawn. I got on the first early-morning bus heading toward the clinic. The money in my pocket wouldn't last long, but I needed to buy my meds today. 

Looking out the bus window, a convoy of white supply trucks rolled past. 

"Ashford Foundation - Rural Relief Initiative" was painted on the side in massive, bold letters. Julian’s pet project. He was pouring millions into Appalachian towns just to make Eliza happy, playing the role of the generous, protective older brother. 

My phone vibrated in my pocket. It was Dr. Evans. 

"Doctor," I answered, my voice hoarse. "I’m on my way for the prescription."

There was a heavy sigh on the other end. "Eleanor. I'm so sorry. I... I can't write it for you. You shouldn't come in."

"What? Why? I have the cash. I did the drug trial yesterday."

"Julian Ashford's office called the clinic network," Dr. Evans said, his voice dropping to a whisper. "He issued a directive. He told all our partner pharmacies and clinics in Boston that you’re faking a terminal illness to extort the family. He said it was a 'waste of medical resources' and threatened to pull the foundation's funding if we sell you the drugs."

The bus hit a pothole. My head slammed against the window, but I barely felt it.

"He blocked my meds?" I asked, completely numb. "I'm using my own money."

"He owns the supply chain, Eleanor. I'm just a clinic doctor. If I help you, I lose my license. I am so, so sorry." 

The line went dead.

I sat there staring at the blank screen. Julian could blow millions on strangers to stroke his own ego, but when I tried to buy the pills keeping me alive, with money I bled for, he cut me off. 

I got off the bus a stop early. I couldn't breathe. The cancer was eating away at my stomach, sending hot waves of agony up my spine. 

I stumbled onto a park bench near the Charles River. I completely broke down. I slammed my fists into my own stomach, hitting the tumor, hitting the broken, pathetic body that was failing me. 

"Why didn't you just die?" I sobbed, hitting myself again. "Why did you believe them? Stupid! You're so stupid!"

"Hey! Hey, stop!" 

Someone grabbed my wrists.

It was a girl. She looked about my age. She had one hand firmly on my arm and the other holding a smartphone clamped onto a portable tripod. 

"Are you okay? Please don't do that to yourself," she said, her voice frantic but gentle. She let go of my wrists, grabbed a thermal flask from her backpack, and poured some hot water into the cup. "I'm Mia. Here. Drink this."

I kept my head down, shaking. I hadn't heard a gentle voice directed at me in five years. Genuine kindness from a total stranger.

"They took everything," I whispered, the words spilling out uncontrollably. "I thought I was a fake. I thought I stole her life. I let them ruin me because I felt guilty."

Mia set her phone down, completely ignoring the recording, and sat next to me. "Who did?"

I don't know why I did it. Maybe because she was the only person who had looked at me like a human being in a very long time. Or maybe because I knew I was going to die soon anyway. 

I told her everything.

Five years ago, Julian came home with that fake DNA test. He declared Eliza was their flesh and blood, his true sister. I felt like I was struck by lightning. I cried hysterically, begging my parents not to kick me out.

Instead, Julian slapped me hard across the face. 

"Can't you grow up?" he scolded, looking down at me in disgust. "Eliza is a poor orphan. She needs the protection of the Ashford name! You've had our parents and my love for almost twenty years. Now that Eliza is home, you're really going to stubbornly stay and make her feel like an outsider?" 

From day one she come back the Ashford estate, Eliza played the victim. She framed me constantly, crying to Julian that I called her "trash" and humiliated her with money. Julian disciplined me without hesitation, while my parents looked at me with nothing but cold impatience.

It all peaked at the winter gala. Eliza stood by the outdoor pool, shaking in her dress. She dropped to her knees right in front of me, sobbing perfectly for the crowd. 

"I'm sorry, Eleanor! It's my fault I'm just a useless mountain girl who stole your family. I should just die!" 

Then she threw herself backward into the freezing water. 

The entire family exploded. Julian dragged me out by my collar and shipped me off to a brutal, off-the-grid reform school. 

"Don't think you're so high and mighty," Julian spat at me. "Go eat some dirt. Grind down that vicious temper of yours. Don't even think about coming back until you learn how to respect Eliza."

That was the beginning of my living hell. 

At the reform school, they piled the physical labor of ten people onto me. The skin on my hands was constantly cracked, bleeding, and infected. Whenever the guards were in a bad mood, I was their favorite punching bag. The slaps, the kicks, the batons—they always fell on me. A few times, I was beaten so badly I almost didn't wake up.

But gradually, things got worse. My body started failing. I threw up constantly. I couldn't hold down food, couldn't stand up straight, couldn't lift a mop. 

When the camp doctor realized it was stage four cancer, the school panicked about liability. They tossed me out on the street like a bag of garbage. 

Too weak to work, I survived by doing high-risk clinical trials to afford painkillers. And today, when I finally saved enough money to buy the drugs keeping me alive, Julian personally ordered the clinics to block me. 

By the time I finished, the girl's face was wet with tears. She was gripping her water bottle so hard her knuckles were white.

"That's..." She choked on her words. "That's fucking evil. He literally tortured his own sister."

She wiped her eyes roughly with her sleeve and looked at me. "My name is Mia. I run a TikTok channel. I do this thing called the 'stranger's wish list' where I help people out."

Mia grabbed my cold hands. "What's your wish?"

I looked out at the dark water of the river. The morning sun was just starting to rise, casting a pale, gray light over the city. 

I didn't want any of it anymore. They didn't deserve me. And my shattered body couldn't hold out long enough for revenge anyway. 

I looked back at Mia.

"I want a decent coffin."

Mia froze. "What?"

"Living has been hard enough," I said quietly. "I just want to die with some dignity."